


Divide by 0

by FlareWarrior



Series: Hartwin 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angel/Demon Relationship, Body Swap, Cold, M/M, One Shot Collection, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlareWarrior/pseuds/FlareWarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fraction of the 30 days challenge on tumblr starring Harry Hart and Eggsy Unwin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stuck Someplace Together in Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am incapable of doing things in order, prompt #7 got done first.

“What is with evil maniacs and snow?” Eggsy muttered, tugging the blankets tighter around himself. He was sitting by the fireplace in a little cabin that contained more destructive power than half of the British navy. With a sniff, he sprayed a bit more magnesium onto the fire. A scalding wave of heat washed over him as it flashed bright white. The flames licked up close to where his soaked clothes hung on the mantle.

“Careful with that, Eggsy” Harry warned.

Eggsy glanced over his shoulder to where Harry was sitting. There was a low table stacked with guns, small missiles, what looked like an implosion device for a nuke, and a stack of old playboys. It was, understandably, a ways from the fireplace. Harry sat at it with a playboy flipped open to a page of text, no blanket, acing as if they were on a rather pleasant vacation. His jacket hung over the back of his chair, still drying from their race through the snow earlier, and his shoes were off and under the table.

“How the hell are you not frozen yet?” Eggsy asked.

“I’ve been to the Alps before.”

“What, are they like chicken pocks then? You’re immune to cold after you survive here the first time?”

Harry’s gaze flicked up from the page, the fire reflecting off his glasses “I didn’t have the luxury of a cabin.”

Eggsy took a moment to imagine being outside, but got stuck trying to picture a worse fate than being two inches further from the fire. “Sucks to be you then.” he said, and looped the blanket over his head “Still cold as balls over there. It’s not like there’s a line for the fire.”

The cabin was quiet, save the howl of the wind outside and the crackle of the fire. Eggsy contemplated hauling the full-size mattress from it’s frame in the corner over to the cozy spot he was in. It was a nice thought, but he was mostly certain he’d frost up before he finished. His hand was inching towards the magnesium again when Harry settled beside him without warning.

Eggsy didn’t really jump, anymore, but he got a nice burst of adrenaline from Harry’s maneuver “Fuck, Harry, make a little noise when you walk, yeah?”

“The shag rug makes that difficult.” Harry said blandly. He had a different playboy now, one from the summer of 1955, and he was still ignoring the naked girls in favor of reading.

Eggsy didn’t believe him for a second, but it didn’t matter. He tossed more magnesium on the fire just to spite him and smiled when the rush of heat ruffled Harry’s hair.

There really was nothing good about the décor of the place, Eggsy decided, even if he did like how soft the carpet was on his skin. Everything was tacky wood-and-leather brown except for the things that were camouflage green, and none of it belonged on a mountain that looked a bit like something Elsa might build an ice castle on at any second.

“What’s so great about those magazines?” He asked after a few more minutes passed in silence.

“The stories are quite good in the old ones.” Harry said. In spite of his stiff upper lip earlier, he looked far more comfortable now that he was by their one heat source.

“Yeah?”

Harry hmmed, then looked at Eggsy over the rims of his glasses “Would you like to hear it?”

“One of the sex stories?” Eggsy asked, eyebrows up.

Harry gave him that look he got when he thought Eggsy was being difficult “No, Eggsy. Quite a few of these are very philosophical and years ahead of their time.”

Eggsy grinned “You’ve had to practice that one, haven’t you.”

Harry sighed, but Eggsy could see the smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, alright.” He said a few seconds later. He flopped theatrically over so his head was on Harry’s lap, most of his body still encased in the ratty blanket “Read it to me.”

Harry didn’t so much as flinch, though Eggsy’s face was warm now with more than just the fire. “He slipped into a corner booth away from the dancing men,” Harry began.　

 

“I guess the Alps ain’t so bad” Eggsy mumbled later, half asleep with Harry’s fingers carding through his hair.

"However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.“ Harry read.


	2. Angel/Demon AU

Eggsy crashes into a solid metal cooling system on top of a high-rise office building, denting it with the force of his fall. His wing vibrates from the blast of demon magic that put him down, agonizingly shaky for just a split second too long. He flips over and catches sight of the thing coming for him - ugly as sin, it drags itself on four legs too thin to hold its enormous body, the whole thing slashed through with a toothy, gaping mouth. It’s fast, damn it, unnaturally so - it gains on him like a spider coming in for caught prey, and Eggsy can’t gather strength enough to kill it. It’s there, above him, lurching for the kill - and then it’s not.

In a flash, a figure darts between them and slashes it clean through. The demon shrieks and vanishes, banished, and Eggsy, shaken and still healing, can only stare where it had been. He’d never seen something banished that fast. He’s got no idea how he’s alive and he’s got no idea who saved his ass, but he’s pretty sure he’s still in deep shit.

“Are you alright?” a voice asks from above him.

Eggsy starts and doesn’t look up. No doubt, whoever this is is going to give him a serious lecture. He nods.

“Come on then.”

There’s a hand in front of his face, and Eggsy takes it gingerly and lets his rescuer help him up. And then Eggsy looks at the man and leaps back so quickly he may have actually teleported.

Because that is a demon.

And not the fast and ugly but low-level kind that had already almost killed him today. The posh-looking older man in the nice suit before him is the kind of demon that leads armies.

“Shit, fuck, what the fuck- Mol-”

“Harry Hart, if you would.” The man leans his hands on an umbrella, which Eggsy’s pretty sure he just killed a demon with, what the fuck, and looks completely unruffled by the fact that he’s just saved Eggsy’s life. Which goes against all things angel and demon and biblical. “There’s no need to be alarmed.”

Eggsy finally, finally gets his sword to materialize, thank fuck, but he’s pretty sure if this demon wanted him dead he would be. Scratch that, he knows it.

“Why the fuck did you just do that?”

“What? Save your life?”

Eggsy feels his wings puff up “I was fine. Just having a bit of fun.”

The demon, Harry, gave him the sassiest fucking look, which was just wrong on something that dangerous, and said “Oh, yes, I could see that. As for your question, I saved your life because you’ve got quite a bit of potential and I rather hate those vile things.”

Eggsy squints past his raised sword. Harry watches him. The wind whistles around them.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” He drops his sword arm. “I leave the goddamn flock for one day and almost get eaten, then a fucking demon of the First Reich pops in to tell me I have potential. Un-fucking-believable.”

“Eloquently said, my boy.” Harry quips, and Eggsy gives him the flattest look he can muster.

“So what, you want me to grant you a wish for saving my life of something?”

Harry scoffs “Nonsense, you can see that I’m plenty capable of getting what I want myself. I’ve simply been watching you and I want to offer you a proposition.”

“A proposition? You think I’m the type to fall?!” Eggsy, used to this kind of dismissal from angels but for some reason not ready for it from demons, raises his sword again. He thinks he must look foolish, but he could really care less. “You might as well kill me right now you-”

“I’m not offering you a position in hell.” Harry interrupts, looking slightly frustrated “Even if I still had one myself, anyone with half a mind could see you’re not cut out for the business.”

Irrationally, that makes Eggsy mad too.

“I could be a fucking awesome demon.” he insists, then frowns. “What the fuck, I hate talking to demons. God.”

“And yet you blasphemize. Eggsy-”

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“As I said, I’ve been watching you. Now, if you’ll let me finish, I’ll explain why I’m here and if you don’t like it you can fly on back home like none of this ever happened.”

Eggsy sighs and gives up on keeping his sword out.

“Fine.”

　

“So you’re saying there’s a whole big group of demons and angels and all manner of things that just runs around making things go smooth for the humans?” Eggsy asks. He’s sat down on the big air conditioner, the sunset turning his wings a glistening white-orange. Harry’s sat down beside him, looking for all the world like a human with liquid black eyes.

“That’s the gist of it, yes.”

“What about, like, the bible? And the rules and shit?”

Harry frowns at the sunset, then looks over to meet his eyes. “Tell me, when was the last time you had orders?”

Eggsy blinks and realizes that, as young as he is, in the three hundred years he’s been serving he’s never actually had a direct one.

“It seems Satan and God have gone on an extended vacation, and while they’re out bumming somewhere in the galactic wilderness, left us to run their little project.”

“That’s blasphemy, mate, on yours and mine” Eggsy interjects without much fervor.

Harry shrugs, “It’s truth, or may they strike me once each”

They regard each other in the ensuing silence.

“I’ve always thought it was rather counter-productive,” Harry continues “us existing to tempt and test humans, especially when they’ve gotten rather good at doing so themselves.”

Eggsy’s torn. He’s a young angel, and all the flock won’t let him forget it, always on about being careful and being less reckless, but damn if he’s not interested. And demons aren’t supposed to tempt angels anyway, it’s part of the deal - though if any demon would, it’d be this one, he’s sure, and that just makes him more interested.

“And you want me to come join up.”

“I can promise it’s far more entertaining.” Harry says, and he smiles and flashes sharp teeth. “Though there’s no guarantee you’ll make it.”

Eggsy looks up at the sky, where he probably should be running back to.

“Okay, why not?” He says.

Harry smiles wider and stands. He’s stopped looking so human as the shadows of night have grow long. Eggsy’s breath catches when he rolls his shoulders and releases wide wings, clawed and featherless and velvet-black.

“Come along then. We don’t want to be late.”

Eggsy would be lying if he said that smirk wasn’t tempting.


	3. Arranged Marriage

JB’s hooves thundered along the forest floor as Eggsy urged him faster, wind whipping by and mussing his hair and clothes. He ducked a low branch and burst into a wide, sunlit clearing.

“Damnit” he muttered, pulling JB to slow and stop beside a majestic dark stallion.

Viscount Harry Hart sat atop it, equally as majestic, with a small hourglass in his palm.

“Two minutes and twenty-odd seconds. That’s your best time yet.” he said and pocketed it.

Eggsy shrugged and hopped off his horse “Figured I should make every second count, yeah? Now are you going to sit there all day, or come down and fight me?”

Harry smiled lightly and joined Eggsy on the ground, pausing to set Mr. Pickle off to graze.

Eggsy stretched and drew his sabre, twirling it playfully in the sunlight. “I still think that horse’s name is ridiculous”

“Says the boy who named his horse two consonants.” Harry quipped, and with a flicker of reflected light he drew his own Sabre and slashed at Eggsy.

Eggsy dodged backwards, stumbling a little, and parried a bit belatedly.

“Focus.” Harry advised, and they began.

The horses looked on with disinterest as they spun across the field in a dance of blades to the clang of metal and the hum of the forest. Eggsy fought as he always did, acrobatic and with his whole body in a way that made his teachers cry and Harry’s eyes shine with excitement; and Harry fought as he always did, hard and fast and brutal and efficient, no movement weak or unnecessary.

Still, it felt more dangerous than usual.

Eggsy lasted longer than ever, clinging to the day as he was, but eventually Harry lunged in and knocked the sword from his tired fingertips with a flick of his wrist. It landed in the grass, where it would lay until such a time that Eggsy or someone else found the desire to pick it up.

Harry was winded, for once, and Eggsy’s arms felt about as useful as window drapes. He looked at Harry from the end of his sword and let a wry smile tug at his lips.

“You win again, Harry.”

Harry dropped his sword and smiled back, a bit more real than Eggsy could manage “Bloody well done, Eggsy. I should think I’m nearly out of things to teach you.”

“Never that.”

Harry’s smile dimmed and he sheathed his sword. Eggsy let his own smile drop and flopped backwards into the grass to look at the sky. A light breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees at the edge of the clearing, and beyond them the clouds drifted by, light and fluffy.

“How goes the wedding planning?” Harry asked after a few seconds.

Eggsy didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about not meeting Harry in the woods every day, or having his choices made for him, or the shade of the napkins when he married a stranger without sword-calloused hands or elegant movements or shite naming skills and who wasn’t Harry Hart.

Eggsy shrugged against the grass, probably staining his already green riding jacket. “You’d have to ask mum.”

Eggsy caught the sound of Harry sighing on the wind, and a second later Harry settled next to him in the grass.

“Is she a nice girl?”

Again, Eggsy shrugged “Haven’t met her.”

“What’s her name? Perhaps I know her.”

Eggsy frowned at the happy clouds.

“Have you paid no attention to the business at all, then?”

“What’s the point?” Eggsy muttered “It’s not like I have a say in any of it. May as well do everyone a favor and stay out of the way.”

A cicada chirped in the silence that followed his words. After a few more clouds passed Eggsy turned his head to look at Harry where he lay beside him “How about you then? Have you met her?”

“Him, actually. And no, I can’t say I have.”

“And do you know about him?”

Harry was suspiciously quiet.

“Ha, you’re just as guilty as I am of staying out of it, then.” Eggsy sniggered. “You’ve done this before. What’s it like, being married to someone you just met?”

Harry shrugged, definitely ruining his shining white jacket. “Impersonal. A bit bland. You’re both so worried about getting along that neither does anything interesting until both have rather lost interest in seeing it.”

Eggsy laughed “So should I climb into the chapel from the highest window, then? Give her something to complain to the grandchildren about?”

Harry laughed, too, as if he were picturing it and the face of Eggsy’s unnamed wife as he did so. Eggsy laughed until the image changed to one of Harry standing there, all dapper and royal at the alter with that look of amused disapproval that only made Eggsy want to keep doing whatever put it there.

Harry stopped too, and when Eggsy looked over he found Harry’s dark brown eyes on him.

Fuck it, he thought, and turned onto his side, brining his body tantalizingly close to Harry’s. Harry’s gaze shifted, darkened, and he slowly propped himself up on his elbows. His eyes flicked to Eggsy’s lips just briefly.

Eggsy leaned up, daring as a man facing the gallows, and for a second he thought he’d have it, just for a few more hours, a happiness that could never really belong to him.

Harry’s hand landed on his chest when he was just a hair’s breadth away from kissing him. Eggsy met his troubled, heated gaze and tried to hide the sadness and disappointment in his own with a little grin.

“Come on, just once? We’re both gettin’ married in a few days. Promise I won’t tell no one. I wanna know what - what it’s like,” to kiss someone I love, he didn’t say. Probably should have, but he couldn’t, it felt like too much in the face of their futures.

Slowly, Harry’s lips parted, his eyes never leaving Eggsy’s “If I kiss you” he said at length “I may never let you go.”

Eggsy’s breath left him in a rush, he thought with an ‘oh’, but he wasn’t sure.

“We could run away together.” he said impulsively.

Harry didn’t move to pull away. “We’re rather important people, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Didn’t stop Mycroft.”

“Mycroft wasn’t second in line for the throne.”

“No, he was third.”

Harry’s eyes darted to his lips again. “And what would we do?”

“We could see the world. Run about like gypsies, travel the seven seas.” Eggsy smiled wistfully, his eyes bright with the image.

Harry’s own eyes twinkled at the thought. “I should like that very much. Though I don’t think I have any particularly marketable skills.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’d be poor and happy to the end of our days.”

The shine in Harry’s eyes dimmed a bit, and the hand on Eggsy’s chest slid up to cup his face gently “To the end of mine.”

Eggsy pursed his lips disapprovingly. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Harry shook his head “I would.”

They hovered a few seconds more, on the edge. Then Eggsy sighed and took Harry’s hand from his face to kiss his palm.

“We would'a made great gypsies” he said sadly.

Harry smiled, and it was watery and it broke whatever pieces of Eggsy’s heart weren’t in the process of cracking.

“I don’t doubt it.”

 

Eggsy straightened his sash in the mirror, blinking away the memory and the smell of Harry’s cologne.

“Eggsy.” Roxy addressed from the doorway. She stood at attention, but her expression was unguarded in a way that would have made the head guard frown severely at her.

“I’m good Rox.” he replied.

You wouldn’t have known he’d spoken to look at her. It was the thing of whispered rumor, or rather something that some knew and most thought, that he’d had someone before the marriage. “If you give me a name, we can have them looked after at least” she said.

Eggsy shook his head “No need. I was just thinkin’ about gypsies.”

 

He was almost insulted, really, that he was the one being walked down the aisle. Actually, he was entirely confused, especially when he asked Roxy what kind of bird wouldn’t want the fun of walking down the aisle with all eyes on her, and she goggled at him like he was as intelligent as a headless chicken.

Things were too crazy and everyone was too busy for him to get much of a straight answer before his mother fussed with his hair a bit and said something about marrying up again and the big double doors opened on the grandest chapel he’d ever seen.

Not that he looked at it long, because once his eyes adjusted to the light inside, he could only stare at the alter - where one Viscount Harry Hart could only stare back.

Harry covered his surprise well. He looked stunned only to Eggsy’s eyes, so used to tracing his features while they fought in the woods. Here, he was ever so magnificent, even more so than Eggsy had imagined that last day, dressed in white and decked with gold in all his royal glory.

His mother yanked him forward and he stumbled ungracefully, then picked up again and felt his face break into a wide grin.

“I thought you said your name was Eggsy.” Harry whispered wryly as he came to kneel beside him at the alter, his eyes soft with happiness.

“I thought you were a girl.” Eggsy replied.

Harry smiled and took his hand, giving rise to murmers in the crowd. Eggsy had no idea how long the priest droned on - it could have been minutes or days, for all that he paid attention. When the vows wound down to I do’s, Eggsy turned with a grin.

“You’re going to have to kiss me now.”

Harry tugged him forward and smiled against his lips “Yes.”


	4. Matching Soulmate Markings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual title: Unattainable

Harry Hart is a man of a different future. Not in the science fiction sort of way, mind. He has no memory of the world he belonged in, which is both a blessing and a shame.

On his arm, same as everyone, is a dark circle. It’s a seedling, one that is supposed to sprout in childhood and grow until you meet the person with the matching flora. Harry Hart marks his thirtieth birthday by getting well smashed and covering the dead thing with a tattoo of Kingsman’s logo. It’s not very creative, but he doesn’t much care.

They say those whose seeds never sprout are the victims of changing times, of the fallibility of destiny. Harry Hart doesn’t believe in destiny.

So of course, that’s the year the damn thing sprouts, and he’s not surprised _at all_ by what it blooms into.

 

Eggsy’s grown up with watercolor blue roses on his skin. It was a source of wonder in elementary school to those who had nothing but seeds or little green sprouts. Eggsy walked into kindergarten with two roses in full bloom that his t-shirt didn’t cover, and all they did with time was spread.  

He’d have looked them up if people didn’t insist on telling him all about them, all the time.

So yeah, Eggsy knows the symbolism. Royalty, nobility, love at first sight, an immortalized romance. And the roses are fucking everywhere by high school, winding up from his wrist to his shoulder and spilling over onto his chest so the furthest one rests over his heart, so it’s safe to say he’s gonna be disgustingly gone on his soul mate in a disgustingly short time and proceed to never recover.

Which is just perfect, because if there’s one constant in Eggsy’s life, it’s disappointment, and nobody will let him forget it. _Unattainable._ That’s the real tragedy of the blue rose. They don’t exist in nature. They can be dreamed of and yearned after, but not even science has managed to create one.

Eggsy’s perfect love is going to be completely out of his reach.

When he meets Harry Hart, his fist thought is that he looks right unattainable.

 

Probably the hardest thing to shake about being from the wrong side of the tracks is that he’s prone to accept defeat before he tries. Not for everything, but personal battles are lost before they start sometimes. So he doesn’t ask Harry about his mark, doesn’t show his own (except once in the barracks, that first night before their tracksuits came in, when he took off his shirt and Roxy, Digby, Amelia, _everyone_ , stared), and generally decides to live with reality as he’s been taught it will be.

Until he sees it.

It’s the morning of the final test, and he finds Harry in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Whatever it is, it’s made of eggs and smells amazing. But once he gets past the hazy warmth that floods his chest when he sees Harry framed by the soft glow of the morning sun, he catches sight of the other things being lit by it and nearly chokes on his own heart.

Watercolor blue, matching Eggsy’s, winds its way up Harry’s left forearm before disappearing under his rolled-up sleeve at the elbow. He’s hard pressed to say he’s ever seen a more agonizingly beautiful sight. Harry’s his, then. It’s not like he didn’t know already, but having it writ so boldly in reality is a whole different feeling.

“Eggsy?”

He blinks and realizes he’s been staring dumbstruck while Harry had been talking.

“Huh?” he tears his eyes away to see that Harry’s raised his eyebrows at him.

“Breakfast is nearly ready.” Harry says, like it’s not the first time he’s done so.

“Oh. Thanks.” Harry takes him in for a moment before glancing down at his hands like he’s not sure what had so ensnared Eggsy’s attention. Then he huffs and goes back to cooking.

“Ah. Quite striking, isn’t it?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” Eggsy mumbles.

“It’s alright. They’re rather uncommon.”

Well, if it’s alright, Eggsy thinks, and goes right back to staring. It’s not like he doesn’t know every sharp line and splotch of color, but he wants to memorize the way they look on Harry’s skin. At his wrist, where Eggsy assumes the thing started growing, is a gold tattoo of the Kingsman logo. Harry starts plating the food and talking at the same time.

“It sprouted when I was thirty,” he says, and of course it did. Eggsy was born in ‘91 with a seed that waited a whole thirty seconds to crack open “I’d gotten rather drunk earlier in the year, thinking it wasn’t going to sprout, and got a tattoo to cover the seed.”

A dead seed. Eggsy’s always known about his soul mate, but Harry’s the opposite. He waited thirty years for Eggsy to show up, only to get the worst possible bloom. The moment hangs, and he almost yanks his sleeve up just to try and blot out the years where Harry must have thought he was alone. But he doesn’t, because he’s selfish and can’t bear the thought that the rose’s meaning, Eggsy’s own personal prophecy, will come true.

Suddenly he feels sympathetic to those sods who always spouted off about the meanings of blue roses when he was growing up. What on earth do you say to someone who looks that wistful about their mark?

“It’s real gorgeous though, yeah?” he blurts out instead of all the platitudes clambering for his attention in his head.

Harry falters a bit.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

And then Harry goes and dies, and Eggsy’s never been angrier at himself for assuming he was unattainable because of their social status or age or Eggsy’s failure.

His roses are blue because Harry dies before he gets the courage to say anything.

 

Blue roses, Eggsy finds, are just about the best mark to have for honey pot missions. Unattainable, his mark says, ironically making him the most temporarily attainable person in the room. Merlin gets a good look at it after V-day and Eggsy tells him to keep his fucking mouth shut, thanks, before he gets so much as a word out. Roxy doesn’t know who it is - or was, because she was never that close with Harry.

So life goes on and he tries not to lament the fact that yeah, Harry fucking ruined him for anyone else like Eggsy always knew he would.

His life is all explosions and split-second world-alterations, which is good for him, he supposes. It keeps his mind off things.

But it means that the next time he sees Harry isn’t at his funeral (empty casket, as the shit show that was the world in the days after V-day had seen hundreds of thousands of corpses burned to prevent the spread of disease).

The next time he sees Harry bloody Hart is through a security camera on a megalomaniac’s fuckin’ blimp.

His trashing of the whole place was apparently the distraction a certain prisoner needed to break out and wreck the left half of the ship while Eggsy fought his way to the control room. Eggsy freezes where he stands, which quickly drives Merlin to distraction. But he can’t really be blamed - the cameras are so clear, showing Harry as he tears through the place like some kind of walking grenade. He’s in plain clothes, no doubt they’d taken his suit at some point, fighting with his bare hands and whatever the mooks drop as he goes. Like a bandage or a scar, a blue rose - the same that had bloomed so suddenly on Eggsy - sits elegantly over his eyebrow.

“Fuck me.” He breathes.

The plan is no longer viable. Eggsy’d been about to crash the blimp into the alps below and jump out with the one parachute he’d brought along.

“Merlin, we need a new plan.”

“What-why?!”

That’s when Eggsy realizes one of the bullets had grazed the camera in his glasses.

“Because-”

And then Harry, the madman, gets his hands on a gun and _shoots a hole in the blimp_. Eggsy’s pretty sure blimps aren’t supposed to unzip the way he can see it does on another of the monitors, so they must have been some spectacular bullets. Either that or the Germans learned absolutely nothing from the Hindenburg.

“Fucking - the blimp’s going down _right this bloody second_. How do I get to - ” he studies the corridor Harry’s in for anything to hint at an exact location “Port side, by the engine room.”

“Galahad, there’s no time. You have to get out of there.”

“Merlin, you can help me or I can try to get there myself with much worse odds of survival.”

Merlin curses, but Eggsy hears the rapid ticks of his fingers across keys a second later.

“Go out the door and turn left. I’ll direct you.”

It’s a damn near thing. The sharp angles of the mountain peaks are starting to look rather big when he starts to hear a struggle up ahead. He sees Harry seconds later, by the rent gash in the blimp’s side struggling with the black-clad main muscle of the week.

“Harry!" He shouts, and Merlin swears a blue streak in his ear.

"You’ve got about a thousand feet to impact, and you’d better believe that blimps fall a lot faster than people. Get out of there!” he says, more agitated even than during the Lancelot trial.

Which is exactly what Eggsy does, because the muscle fucking trips and both him and Harry topple out the side of the blimp.

The struggle doesn’t last too long in the air since Harry’s the only one of the two equipped to put aside the fact that he’s plummeting to his death and keep fighting. Then he’s falling alone, Eggsy terrifyingly far above him.

Their eyes lock. Harry’s widen, and Eggsy sees his lips form his name. Eggsy drifts closer as the ground comes up to meet them, both reaching, and Harry’s eyes get stuck on the rose on Eggsy’s forehead.

“Eggsy, pull your shoot!” Merlin shouts.

It’s like they’re floating rather than falling, a hair out of reach as the wind whips past in a deafening roar.

Unattainable.

_Fuck that._

Eggsy pulls out his gun and empties the clip behind him. It’s enough to let him grab Harry from the air and drag him close enough to hang on when Harry pulls his shoot.

Their landing is not easy, but it’s softened by the snow. Which is fucking freezing on Eggsy’s skin, good god, but he doesn’t care as he sits up from where he’s landed on Harry and tries to find a way to touch all of him at once.

“Fuck, Harry, how-”

But Harry’s hand comes to rest on the side of his face and he stops. Harry’s thumb traces the edge of the rose on his forehead.

“You knew.” Harry says by way of greeting. He sounds a bit flat in contrast to his reverent touch.

Eggsy makes a strangled noise in his throat and grabs Harry’s face in his hands.

“You know what these mean, Harry. I didn’t think you’d want me, for fucks sake. I ain’t so vain that I can’t see who’s reaching here.”

Harry looks so blindingly frustrated that Eggsy almost laughs at him. The blimp has made contact with the mountain range, a deafening sound of bending metal and displaced helium no doubt a precursor to fire.

“Had I been aware,” Harry grits out, like he’s going to have a lot to say about this when they aren’t freezing their balls off in the snow “It would have looked quite the same from my perspective.”

And then his hand slips down to cup the back of Eggsy’s neck and draw him in for a kiss.

It’s fucking spectacular, the way Harry kisses him like he wants to convince Eggsy of his position on the matter with his lips and teeth alone. They make quite a picture, Eggsy supposes, kissing on the snowy mountainside while the blimp explodes in a wave of welcome heat behind them. 

“Extraction is twenty minutes out.” Merlin says as they break apart, frazzled as he’s ever heard “I expect a full report, Galahads.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE AGAIN


	5. Body Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Found this on my hard drive, spiffed it up and figured why not

"Can you fix it?" Eggsy asked, tugging at his cuffs.

"Yes," Merlin replied "in about a week."

Eggsy rolled his shoulders. His as in Harry's, because Harry was watching himself from Eggsy's eyes as Eggsy ran his fingers over his face and hair and neck. It was on a pass over his lips that Harry gave up all pretense of paying attention to Merlin in favor of plotting. Much as he did love stopping evil, he was stellar at a good plot. The world ought to be thankful Kingsman had recruited him. Eggsy, now - Eggsy would be bearing the brunt of this one.

"Thank fuck. This is fucking weird," Eggsy said, and Merlin seemed equally unsettled that it was Harry's voice and face the words came from.

Harry felt rather gleeful as he folded his hands and sat with perfect posture, making sure to speak with the easy accent Eggsy had yet to quite master. "I don't mind all that much. Do take your time Merlin, there's no rush."

Merlin frowned at him, then picked up the offending ray gun and started back to his lab "Try not to do anything too much like yourselves in the next seven days," he threw over his shoulder.

 

Harry was practically glowing with malevolence. It wasn't even an angry evil, he was just so obviously planning something that it had Eggsy a bit unnerved. Though - he caught his reflection in the mirror in the foyer - he had some of his own plans for the week, oh yes. If he were being totally honest, he'd only noticed Harry's plotting during a small break from his own. Which was pretty fucking sad because Harry had probably sent the new tech recruits running, making that devious face on Eggsy's, well, face.

Harry gave him a look the moment the door shut and they didn't even make it as far as the stairs, it was either the guest bedroom or the fucking floor for them. It was bizarre leaning down to kiss Harry, but other than that the kiss wasn't that strange. Only Eggsy was Harry, and that meant he liked what Harry liked, and Harry had _clearly already thought of this_ and went to town proving that he knew damn well what he liked. Eggsy decided he knew a thing or two about what he liked, too, and hoisted Harry-as-himself (and he couldn't wait to stop thinking, what with how confusing it'd gotten) up so strong legs wrapped around his waist and they did, in fact, make it to the guest room. Harry got himself to the floor once they were in, a sinister aura filling the air as he did.

"There is so much I intend to do to you," Harry said against his mouth, and there was something so disorienting about seeing Harry's smirk on his own lips, but he was about to use another one of Harry's own tricks and slam him back when Harry was gone. He stepped back by the bed, undoing the cufflinks Eggsy'd picked out that morning and looking positively devilish. Eggsy watched him in confusion for a few long seconds. It wasn't until Harry started undoing his tie that it dawned on him what Harry'd said could have another possible meaning.

"Oh fuck," Eggsy said in Harry's voice, and it really didn't help matters at all.

"We've been presented a rare opportunity, my dear Eggsy," Harry, clearly aware that Eggsy had caught up, continued "to _understand_ each other better."

Eggsy knew Harry would come right out and say what he was saying with the slightest provocation, and was both disappointed and very glad that he’d chosen not to. As it was Eggsy had to bite back a groan as Harry shed his jacket.

"I encourage you to take advantage of it."

Smug bastard. Eggsy was less careful in removing his-Harry's jacket, entirely to antagonize him. But then Harry had his hand inside his shirt by the time Eggsy was halfway through the buttons on his own, running his palm over his-Eggsy's skin as if to test the feeling. Eggsy was pretty sure, since he was Harry or some such shit, that he should be the one with more patience, but apparently that had at least some basis in mentality because he wasn’t exactly about to come in his pants but he was rock fucking solid in Harry's _fucking silk briefs oh god_.

Harry made a sound and Eggsy's eyes landed on the shape of his hand under the undone white button-up Eggsy'd thrown on that morning, moving leisurely over one nipple.

And Eggsy thought he was hard _before_.

Deciding two could play at that game, Eggsy gave up on the shirt and went straight for the belt around his waist. Harry's eyes darkened as Eggsy worked open the buckle, slowly pulling the tongue out and then the whole thing off. Then he undid the zip as Harry watched, brushing his fingers along his- Harry's- _his_ cock at the same time.

"I know you're very flexible, Eggsy," Harry said, and settled back onto the bed "I do intend to test out your limits."

"Jesus fuck, Harry. Way to up the ante," Eggsy said, breathy and on the edge of incredulous.

Harry Smirked. Capital S, which only spelled disaster "My dear boy, I'm only just getting started."

 

Merlin looked very, very unimpressed when they showed up as planned the next Monday, each nursing a few sprained joints and looking far too pleased about it.

"I'm either getting compensated for having to see those looks on your faces somehow, or the next mission to Siberia goes your way," he threatened, then shoved them both into big metal tube contraptions and they ended up snapped back into their own bodies without so much as a how-do-you-do.

Harry stepped out straightening his tie and Eggsy's expression was both relived and, when he glanced at Harry, a bit hungry.

"Thank you, Merlin. I promise the next time I'm in Brussels I'll stop by that chocolate shop you like so much. Deal?"

Merlin muttered something, but seemed appeased and headed off to do whatever Arthur-Merlins did. Probably take over a small nation and give it back for fun.

"You'll be wanting me to give these silk briefs back, then?" Eggsy asked when he was gone.

Harry smirked "I can take them myself. We do have plenty of new information to test out."

Eggsy grinned wide.


	6. Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: fake underage. Eggsy has been alive 27 years and Harry has been alive almost 60 and is Done with All Of This. But they're physically 17.

"This really is incredibly childish."

"You're the one who thought it was a good idea to be Merlin's guinea pig."

"Yes, but I didn't expect to be stuck like this long enough-"

"Henry DeVere!" Crows the head cheerleader, and Harry drops his face into his hands. Eggsy amuses himself by trying to figure out the ratio of hair height to face length in the interim.

Harry's a fuckin' bombshell, of course, but zapped back to seventeen he's got this air of dorky cuteness that has Eggsy reminding himself every few minutes that Harry can kill him and would not appreciate being carried around like a little dog. Much as Eggsy might like to do it.

His glasses look too big for his face, his hands for his skinny wrists, and his unfairly broad shoulders speak volumes for things to come. Really, he's delectable. Eggsy's only solace is that his hair has to actually shine with grease to stay down. Fortunately, he'd forgone the grease tonight to go to Breah's party.

Eggsy’s never pictured himself cast in a sci-fi remix of 21 jump street, but here they are.

He’s so busy contemplating the absurd length of Harry's fingers (a mystery that’s vexed him since even before Merlin's baby-ray, his own personal millennium prize problem) that he, for a moment, has no idea why Breah's called his name.

"What?" he asks, looking around when everyone starts to whoop and whistle. They’re all quite drunk.

"Into the closet, you too!"

"What? But I just came out," he blurts and draws a few laughs.

"Eggsy," Harry sighs, resignation weighing on his frame "it seems we've been picked as tribute."

It dawns on Eggsy at last that by some stroke of luck or madness, their names have been drawn for seven minutes in the closet. Or whatever they called it. Eggsy’s friends had all been having sex by thirteen and the closet seemed an unnecessary step, see.

"Oi," he mutters, nudging Harry with his foot "don't act so excited. Someone might get the impression it won't kill you."

Harry's eyes seem lighter, almost, with his decline to teendom. Eggsy figures he himself hardly looks any different - a little leaner for the lack of training definition, a little brighter in complexion. He’s pretty glad the beam had been aimed at Harry - ten years was plenty enough age to lose, thank you very much, and Merlin seriously needs to learn moderation.

"Come on, come on!" Eggsy's musings about Harry's various features come to an abrupt halt when someone shoves him off the couch, and he only just manages to catch himself before he breaks his face on the coffee table.

Harry's own special brand of scathing superiority seems to be clouding the air when he stands. Eggsy scrambles up after him, much to the amusement of everyone watching.

 _Technically_ they aren't friends, at least on-mission, because this is the special kind of hell where cliques are going strong, and Harry-accepted-to-Oxford rolls with a very different crowd than Eggsy-the-weed-man. It’s useful because together they canvas almost the entire student body, and since all the posh kids are secret stoners the two of them could wave off any meetings they happened be caught having.

This all makes their current situation very interesting to the smashed teens crowding the house.

The closet in use for this game is barely large enough for two people, though they have cleared out the cleaning supplies and stacked them next to the door for the time being. Everyone cheers as Harry trudges in, exuding disdain, and Eggsy makes a show of watching him as he goes.

Eggsy sends a sly grin to his bunch as he steps in "See if I can keep him out o' Oxford, yeah?"

A whistle follows them as the door shuts.

"How charming," Harry drawls.

Eggsy shrugs "They're teenagers."

"They're mindless slobbering idiots," Harry flops against the wall and crosses his arms, which only puts him about six inches away. Eggsy wants a goddamn scientific investigation into how he can still smell this good at the edge of puberty, after a long day in high school, at a kegger, in a broom closet.

"Why've you been such a prick tonight?" Eggsy’s surprised to hear himself ask "You can at least try to have a good time, you know."

Harry casts that baleful glare at him "I'm fifty-seven, the last thing I want to do is spend my free time with a bunch of over-sexed, unread, inebriated children."

"God damn it, Harry, sometimes I wonder if you're not just like the rest of them rich trust-fund brats underneath it all."

"Of course not, they're the dumbest of the bunch."

"Because you're so fuckin' clever."

Harry's always had a special kind of snark, but it's dialed way up by his youth, gleams smugly in his eyes and smirk and the set of his shoulders as he replies "Yes.”

Eggsy is suddenly very aware of how close the closet forces them to be. And about all those fantasies he'd shoved into a sealed little box in his mind that star exactly that fucking smirk.

Lucky for his poor befuddled teenage mind, he has a few years of reading cues under his belt, and if he has to guess Harry isn't thinking pure thoughts either. That's plenty enough encouragement for him, because Harry's a work of fucking art at any age.

It takes no effort at all to drag Harry down into a messy, bruising kiss. Neither one of them cares a wit for finesse, both suddenly so urgent; Eggsy thinks he tastes blood after Harry gives a particularly rough bite and has to stop himself from coming in his pants like the scrappy brat he is again. Then he finally - finally - threads a hand into that fluffed up wreck Harry calls his hair and _pull_ s. Harry's head falls back on a keen that goes straight to Eggsy's dick, already straining in his sweatpants, and he feels Harry's jerk against his hip. He's halfway down Harry's neck, leaving a bright trail of marks on his pale skin, before a little voice in his head pipes up to ask  _what the fuck_.

He stops, which draws the best and most terrible needy whine from Harry. It takes all his willpower to untangle his fingers from Harry's downy locks. Harry pants, blinking at him.

"Um," Eggsy begins, and because they work together better than the Earth and Sun Harry is already snapping on his glasses. It Does Not Help Eggsy's focusing problems, but he does his best.

"Merlin, I think you did too good a job," Harry says after Eggsy hears the line come to life in his earwig.

"Gonna need a bit more than that."

"We're actin' like teenagers," Eggsy supplies.

Merlin sighs but otherwise remains unfazed "That would be the hormones kicking in. Keep your wits and you'll be fine."

And with that he cuts the line again.

"Fuck."

They're quiet for a long moment.

"I don't know about you," Eggsy drawls "but I'm not keeping any wits as long as I'm tenting my trousers."

"We have four minutes."

Eggsy rolls his eyes "You're seventeen, Harry, that's time to go twice."

"Maybe for you," Harry sniffs.

"Alright, Oxford, just for that-" Eggsy drops to his knees.

Four minutes later Harry flops boneless back onto the couch, looking none the worse for wear.

If you ignored the fetching blush staining his cheeks.

(Eggsy gets more than a few high-fives).


	7. Zombie AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thiiiis is dated but oh well. I wrote most of it after the first movie (you know, when I started the 30 day cheesy tropes challenge). Always wanted to finish it :)

Philadelphia didn't look all that different since the zombie apocalypse started up. There were a lot more jaywalkers, that was for sure, and the newer buildings showed the wear of the last two months, but overall it was unchanged.

Eggsy, who hadn't liked it before, was largely disappointed by this.

"I've been sent to prisons in third world countries that were nicer than this city," Eggsy said, his voice echoing off the tall, grungy buildings.

"There used to be a lot more culture," Julia piped up in her thick Jersey accent.

Eggsy was about to tell her that culture was relative for a country with an expansive three-hundred-year history, but a moaning hiss from around the corner kept him quiet. He held up his hand and his little group of survivors came to a halt, all deadly silent and still. He liked them, he really did, and he'd done his best to keep them breathing on his race to the closest American branch of Kingsman. There was a whole lot he wasn't telling them, but since he could mow down a few dozen dead people without breaking a sweat, they followed him anyway.

The streets stayed empty for a long, quiet moment. Eggsy didn't buy it for a second.

"Back the way we came," he whispered. " _Slowly."_

They listened and started backing up, edging down the road, hefting weapons and scanning for cover. They were out in the open now, not the best of places but a surprising amount of the city was just that, and a distressing distance from their base of operations (the Ritz, which was seven kinds of amusing to Eggsy). There was another sound, this one from behind them, and Eggsy raised his hand to halt the group again.

A zombie came around the corner by the town hall. It tilted its head to look at them and snarled.

Seconds later, the whole mass of the horde, hundreds or more, spilled out behind it.

“Everyone _run_!” Eggsy yelled, turned to run down a side street – and found more zombies coming for them that way.  “Fuck!”

Julia crashed into his back, screaming as the zombies raced towards them, and the others clustered there, their few weapons and fewer bullets ready. Eggsy whirled, yanked off his signet ring, and shoved it into Julia’s hands.

“Take this and head straight for the place I told you about, alright?”

“Eggsy what-?”

“There’s no time. Go. Run!”

She was about to ask _go where,_ he could tell, but Eggsy whipped out his last grenade, saved for a rainy day, and lobbed it into an alley. A hole opened in the horde and he shoved Julia towards it.

“Go!”

With that, Eggsy bolted in the opposite direction. It was probably not his brightest of moves, he thought as he whooped and shot into the air and generally made a spectacle of himself, leaving civilians to break into a Kingsman branch without an agent, but none of them would have been able to pull off the distraction either.

So, this was it.

He'd had a good run - damn good, really. He couldn't complain too much, though he would've like to be closer to home, maybe, or just have some prospect of a burial rather than, you know, being eaten alive.

See, this all started two months ago while Eggsy was in the states on a basic reconnaissance mission about a smuggling ring. Suddenly everything got real _28 days later_ real fast and all he got for intel was a clip from Merlin that it might've had something to do with Valentine's stupid untested radiation.

Eggsy thought there was something to be said for cosmic justice that, one, all the people killed on V-Day had come back for revenge, and two, had Valentine succeeded he would have emerged to a world of people who gave even fewer fucks about the environment.

So yeah, most of those who'd survived the first rage wave were now a zombified mass, and Eggsy'd done real great up until then, when he’d played bait for a bunch of other inexplicably un-raged people and got himself surrounded outside Jefferson Station.

Eggsy was no slouch, but beating a few thousand opponents at once was beyond him - especially when he had to kill streak the lot to have the slightest chance of making it.

And only six bullets.

So he was going to die in a mob of zombies in Phila-fucking-delphia, but hey, there were worse ways to go out.

Eggsy cocked his gun, put on his best smirk and said, "Come on then, you bastards," as the whole of the only slightly less amiable population descended on him.

Before the first bullet left his gun and punctured two heads in its path, he thought of Harry. He thought of Merlin’s voice, telling Eggsy to make him proud, thought of Harry leisurely and smiling and kind. He never needed to make him proud, for some reason, but even so, once again, he resolved to.

The six bullets were gone in an instant and he was left with his bare hands and whatever he could pick up against the press of the horde, thousands and thousands of mad and dying and dead people all gunning for the china-thin filo that was his skull.

It was like an avalanche, as long as he kept moving he could keep his head up, stay alive. They were quick and hungry and relentless, but he was faster, better, trained. And he wouldn’t last forever, but he was at least going to take as many with him as he could.

One got a hand on his collar, just enough to slow him down, just enough to trip him, and his heart jumped into his throat. Sinatra played in his head, an audio track set to flashes of his life, hope for his family.

Then something like a cannonball landed at his back and he was free. Eggsy had a vision of shitty Resident Evil CGI monsters, some new hell for the survivors, but when he turned it was just a person.

Except it wasn’t _just a person_. Eggsy forgot about the seething death all around him while he watched Harry fucking Hart push himself to his feet in slow motion. It had to be slow motion, because Harry had to be up the next second and ripping through the crowd with brutal elegance, like he’d been doing this all along, like he leapt from his own laptop screen from that godforsaken church to right there, where Eggsy was going to die.

“Eggsy!” He shouted, and Eggsy smashed back into reality and his fist into one of the zombie’s faces.

“Harry what the fuck!?” Eggsy shouted back, elated and mixed up because now Harry was just going to die again, assuming he wasn’t a hallucination.

“Later,” Harry shouted in reply.

“Haz,” Eggsy scolded, jamming the slider of his gun into someone’s eye. There wouldn’t _be_ a later.

Then Harry was at his back, warm and solid while they awaited the next wave. Harry’s voice was low, reverberated through his bones as he said, with unshakable confidence and bland amusement: “I think we can handle one city.” Harry handed him a loaded gun and squared up against the incoming mob. “Now, are we going to stand around all day, or are we going to fight?”

Fuck it, Eggsy thought. He cocked his gun, grinning so wide his face hurt, and turned to the twisted army of zombies.

*

Later did come, and saw Eggsy gasping for breath in a little boutique, half the fucking city mowed down outside and the other half right pissed, with Harry tucked so close he could almost taste him.

“Hello, Eggsy,” Harry said at last. Eggsy looked up at him, at the dark eyepatch over one eye and familiar glowing affection in the other.

“Harry,” Eggsy said, more reverently than he’d meant to “How?”

“Did I survive?” Harry drawled, reaching for his eyepatch. “Strictly speaking, I didn’t.”

Harry’s eye beneath the patch was red, blood and fire and roses. He smiled a little self-deprecating smile, and Eggsy started to laugh. He clung to Harry’s solid, warm body, and figured one of them had the devil’s fucking luck.


End file.
